Billionaire Novelist 4 : Every Romance is a Revenge Fantasy(20)

Smith had been so hot in bed, or on the forest floor, or in an alley, against the bricks. I'd had to imagine it was Smith in order to get off that night with the kid, and after that, I couldn't face him again, because I thought for sure he knew. I may have accidentally panted out Smith's name.

That was all behind me, though, along with Smith himself. Except now I was in Switzerland.

I got dressed in one of the nice dresses I'd bought in Montreal, and I styled my hair up into a twist for a change, so I'd look more sophisticated. Finally, I put on the necklace he'd hidden in my purse. It gleamed in the bright light of my bathroom, and I looked exactly like someone who'd be staying at such a nice hotel. 

My mother came into the room all dressed up in an indigo-hued dress that showed off her hourglass figure.

"No, Mom. You look way too good," I said. "He's totally going to flirt with you."

She held one hand to her lips. "Oh no. I can change?"

I laughed. "I'm just teasing you."

We left the room and walked down the hall to the elevator.

What was that thumping noise?

Right. Just my pulse.

I grinned at my mother.

She said, "Why are you baring your teeth at me?"

"I'm smiling."

We got in the elevator and she pushed the button. I thought I might throw up, but didn't.

At the dining room, my mother confidently said, "Wittingham party," and the elegant waiter led us over to a table set for four.

A man was already sitting there.

My pulse pounded in my ears.

The man turned our way and stood. Black hair. Blue eyes. Familiar smile. It was Claude, Smith's driver.

"Tori!" Claude said. "I'm so glad you two came."

"What's going on here?" Where was Smith? I got the urge to punch something.

And then …  an arm was around my waist, and a hand was over my eyes.

His body pressed up behind me, and he growled into my ear, "Guess who."

"Smith Fucking Wittingham," I said. "How dare you make me worry you weren't coming?"

He'd already released me and was shaking my mother's hand. "I'm so glad we can finally meet," he said. "Now I can see exactly where your daughter gets her gorgeous looks."

My mother giggled like someone a third her age.

We all sat down, and I gave Claude and my mother a proper introduction.

Claude said, "My wife is looking forward to meeting you both. She had to catch a later flight, but she'll be here tomorrow."

My mother looked from Claude to Smith and back again.

Smith explained that while Claude was his employee, and they didn't typically socialize together, he did give them a travel bonus every year. "They are only forced to eat one meal with me," Smith said, winking. "Then they sight-see and do their own things, and I must make do with a lesser driver."

My mother said, "But there are no cars in this village. And no drivers."

"Exactly," Smith said. "I could not possibly make do with a lesser option." He gave me a flirty look, his sapphire blue eyes sparkling.

He continued to flirt with me all through dinner, and I was so nervous, I could barely choke down a few bites, delicious as the meal was.

My mother raved about the newest novel, telling Smith how brilliant he was, and he pretended to be modest, but I could see him hanging on her words, hungry for her praise.

He looked even better than I remembered, his thick, light hair golden in the candlelight. He wore a blue-green shirt that set off his eyes, and the man was certainly a big pile of handsome when he put on a suit. His driver, Claude, was a good-looking man, but Smith was by far the most attractive man-no, person-in the restaurant that night. Or at least he was to me.

I wanted dinner to end so we could be alone together. Of course, being alone together scared me, so I took my time deciding on dessert, and I ate my chocolate cake with raspberry-lemon drizzle oh-so-slowly.

My mother fake-yawned and pushed her chair back, excusing herself. Claude said he had to make a phone call to his wife, and the two of them left.




 

 

We were alone. Just me and Smith.

His voice husky, he said, "Did you enjoy the book?"

I could have lied, and said I hadn't read it, but there was something about Smith that made me want to tell the truth, to be na**d to him.

"The book was beautiful," I said. "And the new scene at the end, with the hot air balloon, that was brilliant."

"Yes, well, it's a shame what's going to happen to Sheri in the next book, but the bigger the tragedy, the more memorable the story is to people."

My heart sunk. "What?"

"Come on, Tori, you know how it is. We can't have Dunham settle down, it'll be the end. Dullsville. Nobody wants to read about a domesticated Smith, wiping the poop out of diapers."